


your guiding star through the night

by larienelengasse



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larienelengasse/pseuds/larienelengasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time of the elves is ending. Elladan and Elrohir face a choice and more than just their lives hang in the balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your guiding star through the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minuial_Nuwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/gifts).



> Slightly AU, as I depart from canon a bit where it concerns Legolas and his journey to Aman. Written for Min for the 2015 My Slashy Valentine exchange. The prompt included: A storm of some sort (rain or snow), a recently discovered artifact, and the phrase "Your father will not be amused." A happy ending, angst is fine as long as it is resolved. Prefer late Third or Fourth Age setting. 
> 
> Happy Valentine’s Day, Min. I hope you enjoy it, my friend.

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_   
_Admit impediments. Love is not love_   
_Which alters when it alteration finds,_   
_Or bends with the remover to remove:_   
_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_   
_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_   
_It is the star to every wandering bark,_   
_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._   
_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_   
_Within his bending sickle's compass come:_   
_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_   
_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._   
_If this be error and upon me proved,_   
_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

 

_~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116_

 

 

The wind was cool and provided a respite from the oppressive summer heat. While elfkind did not suffer the weather as humans did, they still could feel its effect. Thranduil had forgotten how much warmer it was in the south – it had been a very long time since he had come this far from his home. He could smell the salt of the sea and he sensed the change in Legolas’s mood; his son looked to the west with barely disguised longing in his eyes. The king walked by Legolas’ side as they followed the road from Ithilien to Minas Tirith.

 

Now that Estel had passed to wherever it was that Men’s spirits went when they died, Legolas had few reasons to stay in Middle Earth. Thranduil and his son now traveled to meet Gimli in the White City. The time had come for Legolas to sail west, and it was fitting that Gimli should go with him. Thranduil had never quite understood Legolas’s affection for the dwarf, but Gimli had proved to be a valiant warrior and a true friend to Legolas. True friends were hard to find, so Thranduil was making an effort to get to know the swarthy creature despite his general mistrust of dwarves in general.

 

Thranduil had not yet heeded the call of the sea; he was content to stay in Middle Earth a while longer. There was a part of him that missed Legolas already. In the long lives of elves, the only times Legolas had been away from him for any length of time was during the quest, and then after, when Legolas and some of their people moved to Ithilien. Thranduil had since come to accept that things had changed between them. Legolas would never again be his earnest young son, and he would never again be the center of Legolas’s life. True, they would always be close and would always share the bond of love and respect that had been forged over the millennia, but Legolas no longer needed his protection – he was no longer a child. What Legolas needed now was his support, and that was an easy thing to give. He wagered he was the proudest father that had ever lived. What pained Thranduil most was how Legolas had grown quiet and drawn into himself. He was still brave, strong, and fearless, but war had changed him. War always changed those who survived it.

 

As they left the borders of the forest, passing through the gates of the Rammas Echor, they entered the wide, populous fields of the Pelennor. Thranduil watched Legolas’s gaze change. There was sadness in his eyes, and he understood it well. He had never again visited the barren, dark plain of the Morannon, but it was vivid in his memory, as if it had only been days instead of three thousand years since he had last stood in that forsaken place. Legolas never spoke of the Ring War, just as Thranduil never spoke of the Last Alliance. Some things did not need to be relived.

 

What was once the site of a great battle now was covered with modest homes and fields of wheat and other vegetation. They walked together in silence. Thranduil felt the gaze of the humans upon him. He was new to their eyes, and given his age and bearing no doubt he was quite the spectacle. No human currently alive had ever seen one of pure Sindarin blood, for he was the last of his kind in Middle Earth. He reached down and clasped Legolas’s hand. Legolas didn’t look at him, but he squeezed it in return. Thranduil smiled and continued walking, holding his son’s hand.

 

They were some distance from the gates of the city, and the closer they got, the more people gathered and watched them pass. The gates stood open, a sign of peaceful times, and Thranduil noted that there was not a mark of the great battle that had taken place here on the gates or on the walls. To these people, that was history, and those heroes had passed into memory, all the subject of tales of valor - except Legolas. Legolas was a living reminder of that time.

 

A small child, a boy of five years of age, by the looks of him, appeared in their path and Thranduil felt Legolas release his hand. His son knelt at the child’s feet, and the boy gave Legolas a flower. “You were King Aragorn’s friend,” the boy said. “My papa has told me the stories that his papa told him.”

 

Legolas caressed the boy’s head, brushing curls back from his forehead. “Yes,” Legolas said quietly. “King Aragorn was my best friend.”

 

Never in all of his long and tumultuous life had Thranduil felt so at peace and so proud of his son. Generations of humans would know the name of the elf who had fought at their king’s side. Thranduil smiled and also bowed his head to the boy.

 

A young man who appeared to be a farmer joined the child.

 

“This is my papa,” the boy said.

 

Legolas rose and extended his hand. After he shook the man’s hand he gestured to Thranduil. “And this is my father, Thranduil Oropherion, King in the north of Eryn Lasgalen.” Thranduil felt that Legolas’ announcement of him caused even more interest in the people that gathered around.

 

The man bowed to them both, and said “You honor us with your presence, my lords. To have such venerable nobility walk among us…”

 

Thranduil motioned to the fields to his left. “Is this your land?”

 

“Yes, my lord,” the man answered, bowing his head as Thranduil moved toward the fence.

 

Thranduil cupped a rose and smelled it, then smiled as bees hummed around his head. “You do good work here,” Thranduil said. “The land is recovering well.”

 

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. The fields are healing everywhere except the place of death.”

 

“The place of death?” Thranduil queried.

 

“Yes, my lord—”

 

“Where the Witch King died!” the boy replied enthusiastically, wedging his way in between his father and Thranduil.

 

Thranduil looked at Legolas. His son’s eyes were narrowed slightly.

 

“Attracting a crowd?”

 

Legolas perked up at the sound of the familiar voice and turned toward it. “Elrohir! Well met, my friend.”

 

Elrohir worked his way through the people, nodding and smiling at those who had gathered round. He was a more familiar sight to them than Legolas or Thranduil. Upon reaching the pair, Legolas hugged him tight and this caused him to smile broadly. “Good to see you, old friend,” he said into Legolas’s ear.

 

Thranduil cleared his throat and he swore he thought he saw a slight color in Legolas’s cheek when his son stepped aside.

 

“Welcome to Minas Tirith, your majesty.” Elrohir bowed his head and covered his heart, as was customary when greeting one’s elder.

 

“You are looking well,” Thranduil said with a smile. “The city is thriving.”

 

“Eldarion is doing a masterful job. His father taught him well,” Elrohir replied. He motioned toward the gates. “Come, quarters are being prepared for you as we speak.”

 

They bid farewell to the man and his son and followed Elrohir toward the gates to the city proper. “We do apologize for not sending word ahead,” Legolas said as he walked beside his friend. “I was not sure when we would arrive.”

 

“Not to worry,” Elrohir said with a smile. “How fare things in the Greenwood?” he asked the king.

 

“Peaceful,” Thranduil answered. “The wood is healing and all manner of life has returned to the south. Your grandfather sends his regards and asked me to chastise you for not visiting more often, should I see you.”

 

Elrohir nodded. “It is difficult to go back there now.”

 

Thranduil put his hand on Elrohir’s shoulder. “The world is no longer as bright as when the Evenstar walked in it.”

 

Elrohir nodded and Legolas reached out and squeezed his hand.

 

They entered the city gates and were met by a squire with three horses. “We shall ride the rest of the way,” Elrohir said.

 

Thranduil approached the mare and murmured to her. She nickered and tucked her soft muzzle in between his arm and side. He stroked her forelock, and swiped his hand over her closed eye. He then removed her bridle and handed it to the groom. “I shall not require this,” he said. “We communicate just fine without it.” He then removed the saddle and pad, and lightly swung up onto her back.

 

Legolas had also removed his horse’s tack. Elrohir’s mount only had a rope looped loosely around his neck. As the trio started up the cobbled road, the groom was left behind with a pile of tack wondering how he would get it all back up to the royal stables.

 

As they arrived in citadel, Elladan greeted the party, and smiled broadly upon seeing the visitors. Legolas was first to dismount and climb the steps to embrace him. “It has been too long, my friend,” he said to Legolas.

 

“I have been travelling,” Legolas answered. “Has there been word from Gimli?”

 

“Not yet, but we have riders returning from the north soon. They may have news.”

 

“I sent a raven over a week ago to Aglarond. I told him that I was coming here and asked him to meet me.”

 

“Do not worry,” Elladan said. “I am sure we will hear from him soon. If not, we can always fetch him ourselves.” He then turned his attention to Thranduil. “My most honored lord, welcome to Minas Tirith.”

 

Thranduil bowed his head and covered his heart. Elladan didn’t miss the slight twinkle in the king’s eye, or the slight wickedness in his smile. He had sincerely missed the king.

 

“I see the influence of you and your brother here. The king is wise to heed your sage advice. Your warriors were nearly imperceptible as we made our way through the city.”

 

“That is the intent, my liege,” Elladan answered, gesturing to Thranduil and Legolas to enter. “The days of open warfare are gone and forces of evil are no longer so bold. Instead, they lurk in dark corners and prey on unsuspecting folk. We must also hide in order to find them. It does no good to chase them away. We must remove their influence entirely.”

 

“Is it possible to entirely remove evil from men’s minds and hearts?” Thranduil asked.

 

“I do not know, good lord,” Elladan answered. “But, we must try.”

 

Thranduil smiled and clapped Elladan’s shoulder as they made their way into the main hall.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After a formal introduction to King Eldarion, Thranduil and Legolas were escorted to their quarters. Thranduil set his pack down upon the bed and walked to the wide veranda that looked out over the city and the lands beyond. He could see the port at Harlond, and the hills of the Stewards, Emyn Arnen. It did not take much for him to imagine these lands burning and swarming with orcs and other fell creatures, or to imagine the sounds of braying donkeys and the mooing of oxen replaced by the shrieking of The Nine and the guttural growls of orcs. His eyes travelled over the scene laid out before him – miles of farms and small gatherings of modest homes with a tavern or two around them. Near the river were mills and docks, and the ruins of Osgiliath. Far off the main road, there was a barren place where nothing grew and the ground was black as pitch.

 

“The place of death,” he murmured to himself. “Even now, after so long, still so black?”

 

Even as he stood there, with the ocean breeze gently lifting the tips of his hair and stirring his garments, feeling the sun on his face and hearing the sounds of peaceful everyday life in the city, he felt as though something was wrong. He felt as if there were a lurking sickness on that place below.

 

He was lost in thought and did not hear Elladan come up behind him. Indeed, he did not register the peredhel’s presence until Elladan’s strong hands were placed on his hips.

 

“I have missed you, my lord,” Elladan said close to Thranduil’s ear.

 

Thranduil smiled, his thoughts now occupied by the appearance of his long absent lover, and he turned in the younger elf’s embrace. “How long has it been now?” he asked, as he tucked Elladan’s heavy auburn hair behind his ear.

 

“Too long,” Elladan said with a smile, closing the minimal distance between them.

 

Thranduil placed his hands on Elladan’s shoulders, and then slid his hands upward, following the long column of his neck before threading his fingers into Elladan’s thick hair. “Indeed it has,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. He paused for a moment gently nuzzling the peredhel’s face before pressing his lips to Elladan’s.

 

Elladan let out a deep, rumbling purr before opening his mouth and sliding his hands from the king’s hips to his taut backside. He gave it a little squeeze and smiled into the kiss when his lover responded with a playful growl. “You have occupied many a dream of mine, your highness,” he murmured.

 

“Mmm, yes. I have been having dreams of my own,” Thranduil responded with a sultry whisper into Elladan’s ear. “Have you duties to perform?”

 

“None for the court,” Elladan answered.

 

“Elsewhere?” Thranduil queried.

 

“Only what my lord Thranduil commands.”

 

“Well then,” Thranduil answered, his hands making a leisurely perusal of Elladan’s still fully clothed body, “I shall have to think of something I need from you.”

 

Elladan leaned back slightly, creating distance only so that he could more clearly look into Thranduil’s eyes. “I am sure you can come up with something.”

 

Thranduil smiled wolfishly. “I already have.”

 

“You never disappoint,” Elladan said with a sultry smile.

 

Thranduil caressed Elladan’s chest with the back of his hand, his rings grazing a hardening nipple through the silk of Elladan’s doublet. He smiled when he heard Elladan’s breath catch slightly, and noted the response in his lover’s body.

 

“I wonder…”

 

“What?” Elladan asked.

 

“Should I test the limits of your patience?”

 

“Maybe to a point,” Elladan answered before pressing his hips into Thranduil’s. “Though I’d prefer you test the limits of my endurance.”

 

“Well, that is a marvelous suggestion,” Thranduil answered, his hands sliding down Elladan’s arms until he clasped the peredhel’s hands. “Shall we begin?”

 

“Yes, please,” Elladan answered with a broad smile, and then he hopped into Thranduil’s arms, wrapping his strong legs around the king’s waist. Thranduil chuckled huskily as he carried Elladan to the bed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elrohir sat upon the stone balcony railing and took a bite of an apple as he watched Legolas. His old friend, long the secret object of his affection, stood at the railing, face turned toward the west, and his eyes closed. The sea longing was palpable in Legolas’s demeanor, and it made Elrohir sad. There was nothing he desired more than Legolas’s happiness. The prince had faced many dangers during the war, and as payment he got to watch his best friend grow old and die.

 

He held up the core of the apple he was eating, and a crow swept down and took it from him. He watched the bird sore high overhead and out of his sight. Many a time he had wished he could fly like birds do. He turned his gaze back to Legolas.

 

“When will you sail?” he asked quietly.

 

“After Gimli arrives. We shall build a craft in which to make the journey. As soon as it is finished, we shall depart.”

 

Elrohir nodded and looked at the toes of his boots, absently picking a small leaf from his leg.

 

Legolas turned away from the sea to look at his friend. The look in Elrohir’s eyes was so sad that it caused him to step closer. He laid his hand atop Elrohir’s. “Will you sail?”

 

“Elladan and I have not yet decided,” Elrohir answered without looking at Legolas.

 

Legolas leaned down slightly in an effort to capture Elrohir’s gaze. “I wish you would,” he said quietly. “I cannot imagine being parted from you forever. But, I respect that this is a difficult decision and I am sure you cannot imagine being parted from Elladan.”

 

“I cannot go without him,” Elrohir said quietly, still avoiding Legolas’s gaze.

 

Legolas squeezed Elrohir’s hand. “I know.”

 

“How does it feel?” Elrohir asked. “I have not heard it, so I know not what you are experiencing.”

 

Legolas sighed and sat next to Elrohir, so close that their legs touched. “It is like feeling homesick for a place you have never seen. It is a . . . restlessness that settles in your bones.”

 

“I have never felt homesick,” Elrohir said. “I, like Elladan, have always been struck by wanderlust.”

 

Legolas smiled slightly. “You like to move from place to place, to experience new places, meet new people. You have always loved an adventure.”

 

“I suppose so,” Elrohir said. “It is my form of restlessness.”

 

Legolas nodded. He reached across and placed his hand on top of Elrohir’s. “Aman is a place you have never seen. It is an entire world of forests and rivers and mountains and new faces. Can it not satisfy your wanderlust?”

 

Elrohir stared at Legolas’s hand, at his finely muscled, long and elegant archer’s fingers. He had many a time wished those hands would grip him instead of knife handles or bows. “It could.”

 

“So there is a reason to sail,” Legolas said, his thumb absently brushing over Elrohir’s knuckles.

 

“There is more than one reason,” Elrohir answered.

 

“Of course, you would also be reunited with your parents and your grandmother.”

 

“Yes,” Elrohir said. He added, “and my dearest friend.”

 

“Yes,” Legolas said with a warm smile. He reached out and embraced Elrohir. “And your friendship is something I cherish.”

 

Elrohir clutched at Legolas’s back. Legolas leaned back and lifted Elrohir’s chin so that he could look into the peredhel’s eyes. “Why are you so sad, my friend? Do you still so acutely feel the loss of your sister?”

 

Elrohir took a deep breath and gathered himself. “In part. But it also makes me sad to see you thus.”

 

“Oh, my kind, brave Elrohir,” Legolas said softly. “One of the things I have always loved about you is your sense of empathy. Mine is a temporary melancholy. Once I set foot upon the shores of Aman, I will feel lighter, I promise.” He placed his hands upon the sides of Elrohir’s head and dropped a light kiss upon the peredhel’s brow. “Come, let us shake this gloom from our spirit. Show me the city.”

 

“You have been here many times, Legolas. You do not need me to guide you.”

 

“But I do not know the city as you do. Show me your favorite tavern. I could use a distraction and so could you.”

 

Elrohir nodded and allowed Legolas to rouse him from his place on the balcony.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The sounds of the city wafted into the open doors that led from the veranda into Thranduil’s chambers. He lay upon his back, Elladan fast asleep in his arms, listening to the faint music that drifted up from below as it blended with the sound of the Nightingale that sung outside of his window. They had entirely missed dinner, which while causing no physical discomfort, would require some explanation come morning. He hoped the king had not gone to too much trouble. Their arrival had been unexpected, and he had also feigned weariness as he left the king’s company earlier that day, so he hoped his absence would be forgiven.

 

He and Elladan had much to talk about. He hadn’t seen the peredhel since before the ring war, and he was anxious to know what had transpired with the younger elf in those years between their last meeting and the current day. It was true that letters had passed between them, but as one never knows what prying eyes may read what was written, they were not as frank as conversation. As was the case with each time he held Elladan in his arms, he couldn’t help but think of Elrond’s reaction if he were to find out that his one time brother-in-arms was now bedding his son.

 

He could envision the raised eyebrow, the steely glare, and the general displeasure that would sit upon the elder peredhel’s brow, not to mention the lengthy lecture he would receive about what was proper and decorum and all that nonsense, but it wasn’t Elrond that he was most worried about. No, Galadriel and Celeborn were far more worrisome. He thought that Celeborn suspected, but he could not be certain. The Silvan was a wily old creature that had perfected a mask of indifference. Thank the Valar that he had not been in close proximity to Galadriel since he had first seduced Elladan and taken him to his bed. There wasn’t a soul on Arda that could hide something like that from her. In fact, he suspected that she already knew, and that might be a small part of his reason for delaying his departure over the sea. Galadriel’s wrath was something he’d like to permanently avoid, and no doubt she’d be waiting for him at the docks the minute he stepped off of the ship.

 

It wasn’t yet late, though night had fallen, and he wondered if he shouldn’t send for some small bite of food for Elladan when he finally woke – his lover always did sleep like the dead after a bout of lovemaking – but he decided against it. He did not want to risk providing grist for the rumor mill by letting a chambermaid find the king’s uncle in his bed. He did not mind for his own sake at all; in fact, if it were entirely concerning him, he would be more than happy to parade around with a lover as beautiful and honorable as Elladan on his arm. He was more concerned for his lover, who had to still reside among these humans, and they could be small-minded. Discretion was indeed the better part of valor, at least where humans were concerned.

 

He smiled as his lover mumbled and moved closer to him, one strong swordsman’s hand sliding down his stomach and between his legs. By the Valar, he had missed this peredhel more than he’d like to admit. Soon, he was covered by Elladan’s form, listening to a whispered, detailed description of just exactly how the younger elf would like to be taken, again. He of course, could not refuse.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Legolas hooked his arm in Elrohir’s as they climbed the winding street back to the uppermost level of the city, and the citadel. “Do you ever wish you could get drunk?” he asked.

 

Elrohir frowned and looked at his companion. “Why do you assume I have not been?’’

 

Legolas stopped, tugging Elrohir to a stop with him. “Are you toying with me?”

 

“No. I have been drunk, once. It was in your home, in fact. Some sort of Dorwinion brandy that your father is partial to, I believe.” At Legolas’s look of astonishment, he added, “I am part Edain, you know things like that affect me differently.”

 

“Where was I?”

 

“On patrol, I think. I still say that your father knew what it would do to Elladan and me. I swear, between Elladan, Glorfindel, your father and me, we drank nearly an entire barrel. The last thing I remember was laughing at something Glorfindel said, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my clothes on top of my bed. One of them must have put me there.”

 

Legolas laughed. “Where was Elladan?”

 

“I have always held that he would not say for embarrassment – he came stumbling into our shared quarters complaining of his head aching not too long after I woke up. I have often wondered that some elf maid did not mysteriously end up with child after our visit.”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Oh, he was quite disheveled – his shirt was on inside out.” Elrohir grinned at the memory.

 

Legolas chuckled. “What I would have given to have been part of that gathering,” he said as they continued walking.

 

“Aye, you would have been a welcome addition.”

 

Legolas smiled at the human expression that Elrohir used. “Who knows what could have happened? Perhaps I might have taken advantage of you as no doubt my…” Legolas abruptly stopped speaking before he said too much.

 

This time it was Elrohir who stopped walking. “Go on, finish. You cannot blurt something like that out and leave me wanting.”

 

“Nothing. It is just a suspicion I’ve always had. I have no basis for it really.”

 

Elrohir grasped Legolas by the arms. “Greenleaf, you had better let me in on this little secret or I will have to…”

 

“To what?” Legolas asked with a playful cock of an eyebrow.

 

“I will…”

 

“Go on.”

 

Elrohir looked around then continued, “I will render you half conscious and pliable, and then I’ll thrust you upon those young women who watched you so intently on that street back there. They will eat you alive.”

 

“And how do you suppose to do this?” Legolas asked with a broad grin.

 

“With my mind, of course.”

 

Legolas wiggled his fingers beside Elrohir’s head. “Oohh, with your mind.”

 

“Do not toy with me, Legolas Thranduilion. I am older than you.”

 

“By what, a year? What is a year in an elf’s life? We are basically the same age.”

 

“You know what I am capable of.”

 

“Exactly, which is why I know you are offering nothing more than idle threats now. You cannot render me unconscious with just your mind, son of Elrond.”

 

Elrohir laughed, as did Legolas. It felt like old times – just two old friends toying with one another. “Fine, then I shall pout and mope about and be generally miserable company.”

 

“I do not wish that.” Legolas sighed. “I know nothing for sure.”

 

“Noted. Now tell me what you suspect.”

 

They resumed their walking as Elrohir tugged Legolas close, leaving the street and entering a dimly lit alley that led to shortcut to the gate of the citadel. Legolas spoke quietly. “My father bears quite a bit of affection for Elladan.”

 

Elrohir stopped again, pulling Legolas to a stop along with him. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, then he continued in a more hushed tone. “Elladan continues to avoid the subject, but he is my twin, after all. He cannot hide anything from me.”

 

Legolas looked at Elrohir with wide eyes. “My father and your brother are…”

 

Elrohir took Legolas by the arm and tugged him up the stairs, speaking quietly into his ear to avoid being heard. “We must know for certain. We must catch them in the act.”

 

Legolas wrinkled his nose. “Really? Perhaps not too far into the act.”

 

“What act?” Elrohir asked playfully.

 

“Any act that involves being without clothing,” Legolas answered. “Do not mistake me. I do not begrudge them their affection for one another, but I do not need to witness the more intimate details of it. He is my father, after all.”

 

Elrohir smiled as they gained the top of the stairs. “Agreed. Perhaps we catch them kissing. Would that be acceptable?” They passed through a gate and Elrohir nodded to two of their plain clothed soldiers that stood guard.

 

“I suppose, but kissing how?”

 

They rounded the corner and entered a back door of the compound that housed the royal family. As they were alone, Elrohir smiled and stepped closer to Legolas as the door closed behind them. “Mouth to mouth, since any other sort of kiss would require the removal of garments.”

 

Legolas felt a little short of breath, like he always did when he was near Elrohir. The peredhel’s warm, auburn hair fell loose around his shoulders, and he could see just the alabaster tips of his ears protruding through the thick mane. His silver eyes glittered in the warm glow of the lanterns that lit the hallway. “Ah, of course,” he said in a voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

 

Elrohir felt emboldened with Legolas in a way he hadn’t in a very long time, since long before the war, since before Legolas had withdrawn into himself. “Would you really have taken advantage of me?”

 

“What?” Legolas asked softly, distracted by Elrohir’s proximity.

 

“When I was drunk. I know you would never have forced yourself upon me, but might you have taken the opportunity to…”

 

“What?” Legolas asked, his gaze now drawn to Elrohir’s full lips.

 

Soon Legolas would be leaving Middle Earth, and if Elladan could not bring himself to leave Eldarion’s side, then any chance of showing Legolas how he had long felt would be gone. “Do this,” he murmured, and then he pressed a chaste kiss upon Legolas’s lips.

 

Legolas was immobile for a moment, as if his brain refused to acknowledge that the kiss was really happening. Slowly, as Elrohir’s lips hovered near his, awaiting silent permission to bestow another kiss upon him, he raised his hands and placed them on Elrohir’s arms.

 

Elrohir froze in fear that he was about to be pushed away, that he had gone too far, that he had misread Legolas’s actions just moments ago. Instead his breath came out in a rush as his back hit the wall a little more roughly than Legolas intended, and he was practically devoured by a lean, strong Sinda that was an inch taller than him.

 

The sounds Legolas made went straight to his groin as he opened his mouth and it was filled with Legolas’s tongue and his breath. He wrapped his arms around Legolas, plunging his hands into the Sinda’s long, flaxen hair. Just as suddenly as it began, Legolas pulled away with a hand to his mouth, and Elrohir’s heart sank.

 

“I . . . I am sorry,” Legolas said, then he ran down the hall toward his quarters.

 

Elrohir slid down the wall and placed his head in his hands.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“My lord?”

 

Thranduil had just finished buttoning his tunic and he turned to find Elrohir standing in the doorway to his chambers. “Yes?”

 

“Might I speak with you regarding a private matter?”

 

“Of course, come in.” Thranduil closed the door behind Elrohir as he entered. “You look troubled, Elrohir.”

 

“I am,” Elrohir answered, looking out the doors at the dark clouds that were gathering over the mountains. The air was heavy and electric. A storm was moving in.

 

“Indeed your mood matches this weather. Tell me, what troubles you?” Thranduil asked.

 

“It is Legolas.”

 

Thranduil nodded as if he needed no further explanation. “I too am concerned. I would see him happy again.” He gestured for Elrohir to sit and he took a chair near the window.

 

“Will not arrival in Aman provide that?” Elrohir asked as he sat across the small table from the king.

 

“In part, but I fear that more weighs on his heart.” Thranduil poured a cup of tea for Elrohir.

 

Elrohir nodded his thanks before accepting the cup. “I bear the utmost affection for your son. He is my dearest friend and I am afraid I have done something unforgivable.”

 

“Have you harmed him?” Thranduil asked, pouring a cup for himself.

 

Elrohir noted the utter lack of expression upon the king’s face. “No, my lord! I would never do such.”

 

“Indeed, you would sooner cut off your own arm then harm my son. Then what is this unforgivable thing that you have done?” He took a sip of tea.

 

“I am afraid that I…” he found the right words were evading him.

 

Thranduil crossed his legs and cradled the cup in his hands. “You told him of the true nature of your feelings for him.”

 

“Not exactly…”

 

“You kissed him then?”

 

Elrohir’s eyes widened. “How…” He cleared his throat and studied the tabletop. “Yes, my lord.”

 

“And did he kiss you back?”

 

“He, um… yes. But then he pulled away.”

 

Thranduil nodded. “I love my son more than life itself,” he said. “He has never really been like me – I am impulsive and headstrong, much like my father was… He is more like his mother, thoughtful and introspective. He can be hard to read.” He set the cup down and leaned forward. “I cannot claim to know what is in Legolas’s mind, Elrohir, but I can tell you that there is little that you could do that he would deem unforgivable. You must go to him, speak your heart, and then leave him to consider it. He will not act on impulse for fear of hurting you. He must think it through and then he will come to you when he is ready.”

 

“I am afraid he will over think it; that he will…”

 

“Deny his affection for you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It is a risk, I know, but if you desire his love, then you must give him room to express it in his own way. The war . . . it affected him greatly. Surely you recognize this.”

 

“I do. It is something I have often wished I could take from him.”

 

“We have both wished that,” Thranduil said quietly as he sat back.  “Legolas’s first brush with loss came at an early age. The specter of grief has been with him for much longer than it has been with you. It has tempered his heart. He is careful, but he is not foolish. Give him time, Elrohir. He will find the right words.”

 

“I fear time runs short. Soon he will sail west.”

 

“Then we shall delay his departure until he can come to you.”

 

“Is that not denying him something he dearly needs?”

 

“He thinks that leaving this place means leaving the heartache behind.” Thranduil gazed out at the window. “What he does not yet understand is that no matter how far you go, it still follows you. Living in Aman will not erase the loss of dear friends, of his mother… We must teach him to carry that loss differently, and to place joy in a more prominent part of his heart. I believe that you can give him that joy, Elrohir. If he too feels it deep in his heart . . . he will have to admit it to himself.”

 

Elrohir stood and bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord.”

 

“Elrohir?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I bear deep and profound affection for your brother. I suspect you are aware of this.”

 

“I have suspected such.”

 

“And how do you feel about it?”

 

“What makes Elladan happy makes me happy. If he returns your affection, then I support and approve of it.”

 

“Your father will not be amused.”

 

Elrohir smiled slightly. He knew how formidable his father could be. “No, my lord. Not amused. But, perhaps he will be pleased once he comes to see how Elladan feels about you.”

 

Thranduil huffed. “From your lips to the ears of the Valar,” he murmured.

 

Elrohir smiled despite his worry. “Do not worry about my father. He will come to accept it.” He turned and walked toward the door, pausing before he left the room. “Grandmother, however…”

 

Thranduil looked up to find the peredhel gone. He cursed under his breath.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Legolas sat on the steps to the White Tower, watching butterflies dart in and out amongst the blossoms on the White Tree. He heard movement behind him and turned to see the guards step inside the doors as Elladan came down the steps toward him.

 

“Well met, my friend,” he said quietly.

 

“Indeed,” Elladan answered. He stood for a moment, watching thunderheads gather over the Mountains of Shadow. He descended the few steps that separated him from Legolas and sat down beside his friend. “This conjures ill memories,” he said quietly.

 

Legolas looked at the darkening sky. “Yes, though these clouds are of Manwë’s making.”

 

“Yes. The Dark Lord will never again walk these lands. We saw to that.”

 

Legolas nodded and twirled a small flower in his fingers.

 

“What troubles you, mellon nín?”

 

“I am afraid I have made a terrible mistake.”

 

“Truly? I doubt that. I have never known you to make a mistake.”

 

Legolas let out a short, mirthless laugh. “I am not perfect, Elladan.”

 

“Perhaps not, but you are wise.”

 

“Not at the moment.”

 

“Can you tell me about this mistake?”

 

“It involves Elrohir.”

 

Elladan nodded. “I see. Go on.”

 

Legolas laid the flower on the step beside him. “I am afraid that I hurt him last night.”

 

“You look no worse for wear, so clearly you did not have a fight. Elrohir can hold his own in that regard, even against one as skilled as yourself. So if no blows were landed, then I assume you mean you hurt his heart.”

 

Legolas nodded and looked at the stairs.

 

“You told him you did not nor could ever love him.”

 

Legolas turned toward Elladan. “No! I . . . We did not discuss love.”

 

“What did you discuss?”

 

“It was not a discussion, really.”

 

“Not one that involved words, at any rate.”

 

“Are you reading my mind?” Legolas asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I cannot do such a thing, you know that.” He laid his hand on Legolas’s leg. “But I do know my brother and I know that he has loved you almost as long as he has known you.”

 

“How did I never see this?” Legolas asked, looking at the ground again.

 

“Elrohir is particularly adept at hiding his feelings, as are you.”

 

Legolas sighed. “I . . . I do not find it easy to express myself.”

 

“But your actions speak volumes, my friend.”

 

Legolas groaned and placed his head his hands. “Then I am afraid that I have done terrible damage.”

 

“In order for me to help you, you must tell me what happened.”

 

Legolas looked at Elladan and took a deep breath. “Very well.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Thranduil poured his wine into a goblet and smelled it deeply, a smile playing across his lips. The sky boomed with thunder and bolts of lightening split the darkness. The rain fell in sheets outside and he reveled in the warm, fresh breeze that blew into the open doors.

 

He turned his gaze outward and murmured, “I do not know if this is by my request, or if this is some displeasure that you feel, my lord Manwë, but this storm could not have come at a better time. Bring the wind and rain, King of Aman. My son cannot leave in such a tempest, and there are things he must know before he departs.”

 

“Talking to yourself again?” Elladan asked as he entered Thranduil’s chambers.

 

“To Manwë,” Thranduil answered.

 

“So this is your fault?” Elladan teased. “You do realize that there will be flooding.”

 

“Harvest is done and the fields have not yet been sewn. The earth could use a good soaking, and this city is built so that water cannot accumulate within the walls. Your tanks and reservoirs will be full to the brim. How can these be bad things?” He placed his hands on Elladan’s hips.

 

“This will delay Gimli’s arrival and Legolas’s departure. That was your plan all along, was it not?”

 

“Perhaps,” Thranduil answered with a slight smile.

 

“He longs to go, my love.”

 

“But he cannot leave until some things are settled.”

 

Elladan nodded. “I spoke with him today. He fears he has wounded Elrohir deeply.”

 

“Your brother feels the same way toward Legolas.”

 

“How can they both be so in love with one another and yet still be so far apart?”

 

“Love is a frightening thing,” Thranduil answered, he placed his hand over Elladan’s heart. “It requires the utmost bravery, it requires one to give all of one’s self to another. The bond forged between two lovers is . . . painful when broken.”

 

Elladan placed his hands on Thranduil’s neck, weaving his fingers into the king’s hair. “You still feel the pain of the loss of your wife.”

 

“I do, but as time goes on the pain becomes less acute and slowly is replaced by happy memories.”

 

Elladan leaned his forehead against Thranduil’s. “I am fortunate.”

 

“That your mother survived? Yes. You will be reunited with her.”

 

“That is true, but I rather speak of this.” He softly kissed Thranduil. “I am fortunate that you found the strength to allow yourself to love another. Why you chose me will always be a mystery.”

 

Thranduil pulled Elladan close. “There is nothing mysterious about it, my handsome young prince. How could I not love someone like you?”

 

Elladan smiled. “Do not fear my father.”

 

Thranduil huffed and shook his head. “While there is no doubt that your father will be less than pleased, he is not the one I am afraid of.”

 

Elladan nuzzled Thranduil’s ear. “Ah, Grandmother.”

 

“You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

 

“She will come around as soon as she sees how much you love me.”

 

“She has never approved of me.”

 

“She did not approve of your hedonistic ways. Now those times are gone and you are utterly devoted to me. She will see this.”

 

“Your grandmother is . . . well, she is formidable, and she has the memory of an Oliphant. There are things she is not likely to forget,” Thranduil said.

 

“Well, Rúmil did almost refuse to return home because of you.”

 

“I honestly did not intend for him to become so . . . enamored of me. I thought I was clear about the nature of our relationship.”

 

“He was young.”

 

“So were you.”

 

“Ah, yes, but you fell in love with me right away.” He kissed Thranduil on the mouth then murmured, “I cannot blame you, after all. I am quite intoxicating.”

 

Thranduil chuckled and pulled Elladan flush against him. “Indeed you are, I feel drunk with desire already.”

 

Elladan laughed. “Well then, my most honored love. Shall we slake your thirst?”

 

Thranduil picked his lover up and carried him to the bed as the storm raged outside.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elrohir stood in the rain, his face turned skyward, his eyes closed as thunder rocked the sky overhead. The rain plastered his hair against his head and ran in rivulets down his face and neck as it slicked his shirt against his chest. He was barefoot and he wiggled his toes in the small puddle that formed around his feet on the balcony of his room. If only the rain could wash away heartache, he thought.

 

A loud crack of thunder sounded overhead. “Can you read my heart, Lord of Arda?” he asked the sky. “For it feels as black and tumultuous as the sky this eve.”

 

“I would that your heart were at ease.”

 

Elrohir turned to find Legolas standing in the open doorway between his balcony and his bedchamber.

 

“‘Tis not your doing.”

 

“You always have been a terrible liar,” Legolas said with a weak smile. “Will you come in out of the rain?”

 

Elrohir turned and entered his chambers. Legolas handed him a towel and he dried his face and hair. “I owe you an apology,” Elrohir said quietly as he made his way across his chambers and behind a dressing screen. “I would never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship by my rash act.”

 

Legolas sat on the edge of Elrohir’s bed. “Nothing in all of Arda could break our bond of friendship, Elrohir.” He watched as Elrohir’s wet clothing sailed from behind the screen, landing in a basket near the door.

 

“Still, I put you in an uncomfortable position, and for that I am sorry.”

 

Legolas picked at the coverlet on Elrohir’s bed. “Do you regret it, truly?” he asked softly.

 

Elrohir looked out from behind the screen as he tied the belt to his robe, then stepped out to face Legolas. “I regret putting you in a position that made you ill at ease with me. I never want you to feel…” He looked at his feet.

 

“I do not,” Legolas answered quickly, reaching his hand out to Elrohir. When Elrohir did not take it, he dropped it to his thigh. “I am . . . conflicted.”

 

“I know,” Elrohir said. “It is my fault.”

 

“No. There is no fault to be had, my friend.” Legolas studied the toes of his boots. “This is difficult for me to say.”

 

Elrohir swallowed and looked away. “You need not say it, then. We can pretend it never happened. You will sail and we will part friends.”

 

Legolas swallowed and fought back tears. “I am afraid.”

 

Elrohir’s gaze snapped back to Legolas. “Of me?”

 

Legolas looked up quickly. “No! No, I would never, ever fear you.”

 

“Then what are you afraid of?”

 

“I am afraid that if I give in to what it is I know that I want, then…” he took a deep breath. “I have lost too much, Elrohir. If I allow myself to love you the way I want to, the way I know you want me to, and you do not sail…”

 

Elrohir placed his hand upon his chest in sympathy. He had never realized that Legolas was in love with him. All these years he thought he was alone in his feelings. Now that he knew, now that he had heard what Legolas had to say, everything made sense.

 

“You cannot leave Elladan, and if Elladan does not sail then you will remain. You will remain here, you will fade in time and you will die, and I will forever be heartbroken. I will mourn your loss for eternity.”

 

Elrohir knelt at Legolas feet and took his friend’s hands in his own. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I am sorry that I never considered . . . I did not know that you felt thus.” He sighed. “You are right. If I remain, I will miss you every day, I will mourn your absence even when I know you are in Aman, but my mourning will have an end. Yours will not.” He shook his head and stood, quickly walking away from Legolas. “I fear it is too late.” He placed his hand upon the wall. “I fear that I am already a source of pain for you and I know not what to do about it.”

 

Legolas stood up and squared his shoulders. He had faced worse than this. He would not remain afraid. He walked toward Elrohir, grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him so that they stood face-to-face. “I love you,” he said. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember and I have spent too much time hiding from it.” He cupped the back of Elrohir’s neck. He looked into Elrohir’s eyes. “I love you more than anything in the wide world,” he said softly. “I will not go one more day without showing you how I feel, without doing what I have longed to do.” Then he kissed Elrohir.

 

The sound Elrohir made was both sensual and heartbreaking all at once. Legolas held Elrohir’s face in his hands and nuzzled it. “Avoiding this does nothing to change my heart,” he said softly. “Whether we lie together or not, I will always love you. I will love no other but you.”

 

“And I will love no one but you. I never could,” Elrohir answered.

 

Legolas took Elrohir by the hands and led him back toward the bed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As dawn broke, Elrohir lay on his back. Legolas rested on his chest and he toyed with his lover’s hair, drawing his fingers down its long strands before letting them slip through and picking them up and starting again. He resolved to go to Elladan and tell him of the changed nature of his relationship with Legolas.

 

Elladan took his duty to Eldarion most seriously. Before Estel passed, Elladan had promised to guide Eldarion, to help him be the best ruler he could be. Elrohir felt that Elladan had executed that promise most nobly and successfully, but he feared that Elladan would not yet be ready to choose. Each day, each year that passed with them living in the company of the Edain, the more Elrohir wondered whether Elladan would choose mortality, as Arwen did. Elrohir loved Eldarion, and he had friends among the Edain, but he could leave them behind as long as Elladan agreed to do the same. He hoped that Elladan’s relationship with Thranduil would factor into Elladan’s decision, and if Elladan knew of how Legolas and he were committed to one another... Thranduil was purely elf kind, as was Legolas. They were eternal. If he and Elladan chose mortality, then they would be depriving Thranduil and Legolas of a lifetime of partnership. He hoped this would sway his brother. They could not break the hearts of both father and son.

 

Legolas moaned sleepily as he stretched and then snuggled closer. Elrohir kissed the Sinda on top of the head and then smiled against his hair as Legolas responded by kissing his chest. “Hungry?” Elrohir murmured.

 

“Not just yet,” Legolas answered as he blinked awake. “I have not slept so well in an age.”

 

Elrohir smiled and drew lazy patterns on Legolas’s back. “Nor have I,” he answered.

 

“Yet, you are troubled,” Legolas responded.

 

“Just thoughtful,” Elrohir said.

 

“About?”

 

“Well, your father loves my brother most dearly.”

 

Legolas raised up and looked Elrohir in the eyes. “You have spoken with him?”

 

“Aye. Yesterday.”

 

“He admitted this?”

 

“He did. He is concerned about my father’s reaction, though more importantly I do believe he is downright frightened by the thought of facing my grandmother.”

 

Legolas broke into a smile and then laughed. “It is hard to imagine my father frightened of anything, but then your grandmother is quite intimidating.”  

 

Elrohir smiled broadly. “I suppose so, yes. Elladan and I never saw that side of her, much to father’s chagrin. He frequently accused her of spoiling us rotten.”

 

Legolas smiled and traced Elrohir’s lips with his finger. “Oh, there is nothing rotten about you, lover.” He leaned down and kissed Elrohir, purring in appreciation when Elrohir’s fingers weaved into his hair, cradling his head as he made a thorough perusal of his mouth. He withdrew and smiled lazily at Elrohir.

 

“You are clearly biased,” Elrohir answered.

 

“Clearly,” Legolas answered, still smiling.

 

“I have missed your smile,” Elrohir answered with a gentle tap to Legolas’s lips.

 

“It has been long absent, but you called it home.”

 

Elrohir pulled Legolas closer, “Mmm, always so poetic.” He kissed Legolas again, then tucked a long strand of flaxen hair behind the Sinda’s ear.

 

“I shall speak with Elladan today, gauge his thoughts about our impending decision.”

 

Legolas’s expression became serious.

 

“Do not worry, my love. Surely, given that Elladan loves your father as much as I love you, we will be in agreement that we should sail.”

 

Legolas nodded, then propped his chin on Elrohir’s chest, watching the rain fall outside. “Still it rains,” he said softly.

 

“It has not stopped, though it has slackened a bit.”

 

“This will interfere in Gimli’s journey.”

 

“It will slow him down, no doubt.” Elrohir kissed the top of Legolas’s head. “If he does not arrive soon, we shall go fetch him, just you and I.”

 

Legolas smiled a little. “That would be nice. He would like to see you again.”

 

“I’ve missed the little brute, myself.”

 

Legolas chuckled and stretched. “I suppose we should rise.”

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” Elrohir answered. He yawned. “I am rather liking this idea of a lazy morning, though.”

 

Legolas sat up and smiled at his lover. “We’ll have plenty of them in Aman.”

 

Elrohir smiled. “Yes, I suppose we will.” He stretched and groaned over loudly, then swung his legs off the bed and walked across the room to the armoire.

 

Legolas took a moment to enjoy the sight of his new lover parading around stark naked, then he began to pull on his clothes. “I am going to seek out my father, talk to him about his relationship with your brother.”

 

“Will you torment him with your newfound knowledge?” Elrohir asked with a teasing grin.

 

“Perhaps,” Legolas answered with an equally teasing wink.

 

“You are so very naughty.”

 

Legolas laughed. “I learned from the best, my love.” He placed a lingering kiss on Elrohir’s mouth as he moved toward the door of the chamber. “See you soon?”

 

“Very soon,” Elrohir answered. “I shall surprise you, somewhere.”

 

Legolas winked and departed Elrohir’s chambers.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After the rains abated, Legolas sought his father out and he found Thranduil outside of the city walls, sitting on a low stone wall and staring at the black patch of ground where the Witch King had died. He didn’t like coming here, and he had thought about waiting for his father to return to the city proper, but he was also anxious to speak to him about Elladan and whether Thranduil had any indication of the elder twin’s thoughts on the impending decision.

 

“What is it that has you so interested?” he asked.

 

“After all this time,” Thranduil said. “Still this patch of land is so sick?”

 

“It was a great and profound evil that died here,” Legolas answered.

 

“That evil’s power should have dissipated with the destruction of the Dark Lord and the ring that bound them together,” Thranduil said. Something caught his eye. “What is that?” he asked, before slipping off the wall and walking toward it.

 

Legolas reached out for his father, “Adar, you should not touch this place.”

 

Thranduil held up his hand. “Legolas, I need something – a glove or piece of cloth.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Fetch one for me, would you?”

 

Legolas frowned and looked about. He spied a dropped glove near the path and he retrieved it. When he returned, Thranduil was crouched down, near the center of the blackened patch of ground.

 

“Adar,” he called.

 

Thranduil turned and caught the glove when Legolas threw it to him, then he turned back and began to remove something that had been embedded in the ground but loosened with the rains that had fallen overnight and much of that day. The earth was soft, so it yielded the object easily.

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened in surprise, then he frowned and quickly wrapped the object in the glove.

 

“What is it?” Legolas asked.

 

“Follow me,” Thranduil said hopping back over the low wall and making his way further afield, away from prying eyes and ears.

 

Legolas looked at his father’s hand and even before the object was unveiled, he felt a sense of dread.

 

“That ground was dead because there remained a festering wound,” Thranduil said quietly. He slowly unwrapped the object, careful not to touch it with his bare hands.

 

“That is one of the Nine rings,” Legolas breathed.

 

“It has little power now that The One has been destroyed, but it is still tainted and will pollute all that it touches, just as it polluted that patch of earth.”

 

“What are we to do with it?” Legolas asked.

 

“We have not the power to destroy this, unless you wish a repeat journey into what is left of Mordor.”

 

Legolas looked ruefully to the east. “I do not wish that.”

 

“Nor do I,” Thranduil said. “I swore I would never set foot in that forsaken place ever again.” He placed his hand on Legolas’s shoulder. “We cannot leave it here. If some fool finds it without knowing what it is… it does not have the same power it once did, but it still has the power to corrupt.”

 

Legolas nodded. “Agreed.”

 

“I will carry it to Aman. The Valar will know what to do.”

 

“That seems the best course, but be careful. I would not have you fall ill because of accidental contact with that thing.”

 

Thranduil smiled at his son. “I will be.” He tucked the wrapped ring into a small pouch on his belt. “As long as no one touches it, all should be well. I will treat it like the poison it is.”

 

As they began to walk a narrow path that headed toward the walls of Minas Tirith, Legolas broached the subject that had caused him to seek Thranduil out to begin with.

 

“Adar?”

 

“Yes, Greenleaf?”

 

“Are you in love with Elladan?”

 

Thranduil smiled slightly. “It appears I am not nearly as good at hiding it as I thought I was.”

 

“Why do you seek to hide it?”

 

“For several reasons,” Thranduil answered. “Chiefly that I do not wish to cause Elladan any undue trouble because of the nature of our relationship. Men are not nearly as evolved as we are. But also I have to admit that I have been a little worried about what you would think.”

 

Legolas put his hand on his father’s arm and tugged him to a stop. “What do you mean?”

 

“You lost your mother at such a young age, and I was not sure how you would take to me loving another.”

 

“She has chosen to remain in Námo’s halls. It was her choice, Adar. I do not fault her for it, nor do I fault you for seeking the love of another now that she has chosen to be forever separated from you.”

 

Thranduil smiled and cupped the back of Legolas’s neck. “You have become so wise, my son. I am so proud.”

 

Legolas smiled sheepishly, “I learned from you.”

 

Thranduil pulled him into an embrace. “There are many who would argue against that.”

 

Legolas chuckled lightly as he hugged his father back. “And they would be wrong.” As Thranduil released him, he asked, “Do you worry about his decision?”

 

Thranduil grew silent for a moment then placed his hand on Legolas’s back as they resumed walking. “Sometimes, yes. He has compelling reasons to stay behind. He takes his duty very seriously.”

 

Legolas nodded. “Elrohir will not sail without him,” he said.

 

“Their bond is special, Greenleaf. They are incomplete if one is without the other.”

 

“I know,” Legolas added with a nod. “That is why I am worried.”

 

“For you are incomplete without Elrohir.”

 

“You know,” Legolas said, his gaze cast downward.

 

Thranduil smiled and put his arm around Legolas’s shoulders. “I know all there is to know about you, my son.”

 

Legolas huffed. “I never could keep a secret from you.”

 

“It is a son’s lot in life,” Thranduil answered with a smile.

 

Legolas chuckled and shook his head. “So many hours spent concocting fruitless plans.”

 

“I did the same with my father,” Thranduil answered.

 

“And did he always catch you the way you always catch me?”

 

“Of course,” Thranduil replied. “I was a son, it was my lot in life at the time. Now I have you to catch me before I do something ill advised.”

 

Legolas smiled slightly at his father’s teasing, but his expression grew more serious as they entered the gates. “It would be wrong of us to try to influence their decision, wouldn’t it?”

 

“You knew the answer to that question before you asked it,” Thranduil answered as they turned to climb up one of the long sets of stairs to the uppermost level of the city and their lodgings.

 

Legolas sighed and nodded. Thranduil clasped his son’s hand in support as they began the long climb.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elladan sat behind a large desk that had several stacks of papers upon it. Elrohir stood in the doorway, looking at the top of his twin’s head. Elladan was bent over a parchment, quill scratching as he wrote. Elrohir leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“One moment, ‘Ro,” Elladan said, then he bit his lip and paused in his writing before continuing.

 

Elrohir looked at the floor and watched a tiny spider go up and over the toe of his boot as it crossed the room. Outside, he could hear the guards training – the clashing of wood training swords against armor, the grunts and shouts of exertion and triumph, the occasional command or praise coming from the captains.

 

He had to ask. He did not want to push, but he could not stand not knowing how Elladan felt for one more day.

 

Elladan placed the quill back in the inkpot and looked up. “Come in, ‘Ro. Why are you standing there?”

 

Elrohir closed the door before entering Elladan’s rather large office and sat in a high-backed chair. “I did not want to interrupt your train of thought.”

 

Elladan sat back and rested his hands upon the arms of the chair. The pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger were stained black with ink. He absently rubbed at it. “As if that were possible,” he teased.

 

Elrohir huffed out a laugh. “Yes. You are brilliant, after all.”

 

Elladan grinned. “What brings my brother to my office midday? Are you not typically overseeing the Guards of the Citadel at this time?”

 

“I have trained our captains well. They no longer need me.” He brushed a small piece of lint from his trousers.

 

“You are troubled,” Elladan said.

 

“I am . . . preoccupied,” Elrohir answered.

 

“With Legolas?”

 

“It touches Legolas, yes. But that is not the whole of my concerns.”

 

“Then what else?” Elladan leaned forward and caught his twin’s eye. “Have we not always told one another everything?”

 

Elrohir leaned forward as well. “You first.”

 

Elladan huffed and smiled a little. “Very well. I am considering asking Thranduil to bind himself to me.”

 

“Marriage?” Elrohir asked. “I suppose I should not be surprised, given how long the two of you have been together.”

 

“‘Ro, I know I never spoke of this to you before, but—”

 

“You need not seek my permission, Elladan. You are well past the age where your life is your own.”

 

“Ah, but it is not. Neither of our lives are our own.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“When one loves another, we owe consideration, care, and truth to the other.”

 

“You speak of Thranduil.”

 

“And I speak of you. My life has never been entirely my own, ‘Ro. I may seek a bond of love with Thranduil, but I share a bond of blood with you. We have never been parted for longer than a day.” He looked at his desk. “I love you, brother. You are as much a part of me as my flesh, my bone, my heart.”

 

Elrohir’s expression softened. “And I feel the same about you, ‘Dan. You know I do.”

 

Elladan smiled slightly. “So this is where you tell me about Legolas.”

 

Elrohir swallowed. “Aye. I love him, ‘Dan. I always have. You know this.”

 

Elladan looked at Elrohir. “I know. Has he found the strength to open his heart to you?”

 

Elrohir smiled a little. “Yes. I seek the same bond with him that you seek with Thranduil.”

 

Elladan sat back. “I have been conflicted, as of late.”

 

“I know,” Elrohir said.

 

“I swore an oath…”

 

Elrohir reached his hand out across the desk, his palm up in invitation. “Do you think that Estel would wish you to hold to that oath when the duty has already been fulfilled? Eldarion is wise and strong and beloved by his people.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you think that Estel, or Eldarion would want you to remain behind and watch all that you love die while it takes you, and I, ages to come to the end of our path? Do you want to watch this world that we have fought for and loved so dearly, our home, turn into something we no longer recognize or fit into?”

 

Elladan shook his head.

 

“And what of Thranduil? He may choose to remain behind with you, but he cannot choose to age. He will watch you grow old and die, your spirit will go we know not where and he will remain behind, only to die of heartache. You will be forever separated by death when he finally finds his way to Námo.”

 

“I know all of this, ‘Ro.”

 

“And does it not make our choice easier? Is the answer not clearer because of all of it?”

 

Elladan looked at Elrohir. His brother’s pale eyes were so open and sincere – this was not Elrohir trying to convince him of something he did not want. This was Elrohir loving him, protecting him, even from himself. He offered a small smile. “It does,” he answered. “I wish to choose immortality. I wish to choose to sail into the West. What do you want?”

 

Elrohir smiled warmly. “I want the same. We will sail together, brother. We will again see our father, our mother, our kin. We will live until the end of days with the ones we’ve chosen to love, together.”

 

Elladan stood and rounded his desk as Elrohir also stood. They embraced tightly. “It will be hard to say goodbye,” he murmured into Elrohir’s ear.

 

“It will be easier with Thranduil and me by your side.”

 

Elladan nodded, then he took a deep breath. “Go on. Tell Legolas. I know he has been waiting.”

 

Elrohir smiled and grasped the back of Elladan’s neck. “Together,” he said.

 

Elladan grasped his twin’s shoulders. “Always. Now go on. I have much to do to prepare for the journey.”

 

Elrohir smiled and nodded, then he left his brother to his work.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Gimli groaned as he stretched and arched his back. “So this is what all the fuss is about?” he asked as he took in the docks at the Grey Havens.

 

Legolas grinned and shook his head. Thranduil just rolled his eyes.

 

“This is just a taste of the beauty you will be exposed to,” Elrohir said. “At the other end of our journey, the Lady Galadriel will be waiting.”

 

Gimli perked up. “Will she? Oh, I have longed to look upon her again.”

 

“No doubt she has missed you,” Thranduil responded wryly, uttering an undignified humpf when Legolas elbowed him in the side.

 

Elladan swung his pack onto his back. “Come, we do not sail until the morning. Let us enjoy one more night on solid ground before the journey.”

 

“I smell roast pork,” Gimil responded.

 

“Of course you do,” Elrohir teased. “You can track a roast pig from one hundred miles away.”

 

Gimli tapped his nose with a grin. “Come, Laddy. Let’s find some food.”

 

As Legolas, Gimli, and Elrohir walked ahead Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. “How long is the crossing again?” he asked.

 

Elladan laughed. “Too long for your liking, no doubt. Come, my love. This may be our last night of privacy for several days. I’d like to take advantage of that.”

 

Thranduil slipped his arm around his lover’s waist. “We will build a home far from prying eyes so that I can watch you roam around naked every day.”

 

Elladan laughed. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any to move into the country.”

 

Thranduil tugged him to a stop and pulled him into his arms. “You shall never have reason to regret your decision. I will spend every day for the rest of time making you happy.”

 

“I know you will,” Elladan said. “I chose rightly. I feel it in my heart.” He looked around. “I will miss this place though.”

 

Thranduil pressed his forehead to Elladan’s. “As will I, but sharing a life with you will make that easier.”

 

Elladan smiled and kissed his beloved. “Just think,” he whispered. “In a week’s time, we may be having dinners with my grandparents.”

 

“You had to go and ruin the mood,” Thranduil teased.

 

Elladan laughed and put his arms around Thranduil’s neck. “I shall mend my mistake.”

 

Thranduil grinned wickedly. “Yes, you shall.” Then he tugged his lover toward the inn.

 

~Finis


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